


To The Edge of Night

by Lunarelle



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Icecrown Citadel, Sad, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarelle/pseuds/Lunarelle
Summary: Sylvanas stands on top of Icecrown Citadel, wondering where it all went wrong and how life for Faith would be better if she were gone. An Almost Beyond short, set during chapter 13 of the story. Technically rated PG-13 for content.





	To The Edge of Night

**Author's Note**  – This little story was inspired by the real story  _Edge of Night: Sylvanas Windrunner_ , which you can find on the U.S. site. I wanted to rewrite it to add Faith in it, because it's a major part of Sylvanas' character. I hope I did it justice and that you enjoy it! I recommend you read the original one as well (mostly because it's written better!). This story takes place exactly between chapter 13 and chapter 14 of  _Almost Beyond_.

* * *

Had she been alive, she would have felt the snow sting her face. The ice cut her skin, drawing blood that froze in the frigid temperatures that reigned in Icecrown Citadel.

But the creature at the foot of the former stronghold of the Scourge wasn't alive. Her tattered black cloak snapped around her shoulders, and had she been anybody else, she would have been buffeted by the wind.

She looked up at the citadel, contempt all over the undead features that still showed how beautiful she had been in life.

 _You bastard_ , she thought.  _You dared to die before I got a chance to kill you_.  _Did Faith make you suffer? Did she scare you when she killed you?_

She should have been there when Arthas had been killed. She was sure that she would have caused him more torment than he had felt when he had realized that true death was near. Not that she thought for a second that Faith had been soft with him. But she was positive that she could have done a better job of hurting him. The same way he had hurt her.

Beginning to walk towards the entrance, Sylvanas wiped snow out of her eyes. Once, it would have been impossible for anybody to get so close to the fortress without a battalion at their back. But now, only a few scourged undead shambled by. If any of them took it into their mind to come close to her, she would kill them swiftly.

There was no need for that, though. The Argent Crusade and the Knights of the Ebon Blade had done an excellent job. Countless bones still littered the place, but no residual malevolence remained that she could feel. Oh, she knew that, elsewhere on Northrend, mop-up campaigns were still going on, to get rid of the last pockets of undead resistance and kill the few liches that remained.

However, Sylvanas got inside the citadel unbothered by anybody or anything. A few dozen paladins still guarded the antechamber of Icecrown Citadel, but she passed by them, using her skills to remain unseen.

She was careful as she made her way through the halls, not wanting anything to happen to her before she reached her goal.

The Frozen Throne. That was where she was headed. She sensed residual magic – Faith's – as she walked, and she closed her eyes, nearly feeling her presence with her.

_You'll be all right. You'll resent me for a while, I think, but you'll move on eventually, you'll see. I'm sure of it._

But there was a part of her that wondered whether that was true.

She pushed that part of herself away.

It took her an hour to reach the Frozen Throne. Spatters of blood still decorated the floor where Faith's companions had died during the final confrontation with Arthas. It was colder here, she perceived, although it didn't bother her. Bits of armor were scattered here and there, and she recognized some pieces as having belonged to Arthas. She pushed them away with her foot and looked up at the throne.

She froze.

"No…"

Breaking into a run, she raced up the slippery steps that led to the throne of ice, stopping only when she was face-to-face with something she never thought she would see again.

Encased in ice, it was difficult to make out, but the helm was perfectly recognizable, for Sylvanas had seen it too often since she had been killed. The Helm of Domination. The helm of the Lich King.

The Lich King was still alive.

But no. That was impossible. Faith would have never lied to her about something like that. Furthermore, she hadn't heard him whispering in her mind ever since Faith had returned from this place. She knew him to be really dead. But then…

Who was this?

She peered closer, slamming her fist against the ice, which cracked a little. She noticed a large shield with the crest of the Alliance. The hilt of a sword that appeared to be from Stormwind.

_So they didn't get rid of the Lich King. They killed Arthas, only to replace him with someone else…_

What was it to her? If they wanted to keep the Scourge active, she didn't care anymore. Arthas was dead, and her homeland had been avenged. There was nothing left for her here.

_And Faith will be fine. She has to be. I can't help her anymore._

Ever since she had died and been reborn as a banshee, Sylvanas had desired peace and eternal rest. The glimpse she had caught of it had been a sweet promise, as ripe as juicy fruit plucked from a beautiful tree. But Arthas had stolen even that from her. And she wanted it back.

She stepped towards the edge of the platform, seeing nothing below but ice and the dim outline of saronite. If she jumped from that height and landed on the saronite, she would most definitely be killed. And finally, she would find the peace her tortured soul longed for.

A tear fell from her eye as her bow and arrows fell from her gloved hand, clattering to the floor and rolling off the edge.

Something caught the corner of her eyes, causing her to turn her head.

She blinked.

She had only seen these creatures once, from afar, but she'd heard enough about them to know what they were.

Nine maidens, emitting a pearly ethereal glow, with wings of light, hovered on either side of her. They were the Val'kyr, female warriors who had been enslaved to the Scourge when the Lich King had first taken over Northrend. They had tremendous powers, she knew, and were almost impossible to kill.

Almost. Faith had killed several of them in Icecrown, and she had heard that only a handful remained after the Northrend Campaign. What she was seeing now was that handful.

She stared at them. Would her banshee's wail work on such creatures? It was possible that it wouldn't, as they were scourged beings.

They came closer, but she stood her ground.

Memories assailed her suddenly. Not memories that she was recalling on her own, no. She knew that these creatures were calling them forth for her.

She saw herself very clearly, lacing her boots over pristine black leggings in preparation of seeing Faith. She could feel the sun on her skin from the open window of her room, could smell the perfume that had been hers, sweet spices. In her memory, her heart raced wildly as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She had tried a different hairstyle that day: two long braids fell over both of her shoulders, while the rest of her hair hung down her back in soft golden waves. Her sky blue eyes were wide and bright, lined with perfectly applied makeup. Her skin seemed to glow with health, and she had dabbed her lips with a touch of color, enhancing their natural pigment.

She always had to look perfect. No matter what she did, she had to look better than anybody around her.

 _How very vain you were_ , she thought as the memory continued. She saw herself walking out the door of her family's home to greet Faith and her family, who were spending the day with them.

 _Faith_. Seeing her, even in memory form, hit her like a kick to the gut. She had been so beautiful. So carefree. As she had stepped down from the wagon, Sylvanas had caught, for a heart-stopping moment, a glimpse of a bare leg, before the dress she was wearing covered it up again.

"This doesn't change my mind," she said to the creatures that now surrounded her. "She looks gaunt now. Her eyes don't glow anymore. She's been through too much because of me."

And without further ado, she turned from the Val'kyr, leaping off Icecrown Citadel.

She heard the creatures screaming behind her. They hurled more memories at her, and in the seconds before she hit the spikes of saronite, an image burst into her mind.

Faith screaming as Arthas flung her dead body at her.

"Faith!" she cried.

Her world went black.

It was a blackness such as she had never known before. Something so complete that not even she could look through it.

But she wasn't alone in the dark. She could hear tortured screaming. Mocking jeers and harsh laughter. Someone sobbing.

A light flickered not far from her, and what she saw could have destroyed her sanity in a clawing stroke, had she had much sanity left.

"Ahhh…" said a voice that belonged in no world she could think of.

Pain suddenly laced her body. The same pain she had felt when Arthas had ripped her soul away. She screamed. Shrieked.

The pain disappeared and her screams subsided. Much later, she managed to move again, walking in an unspecified direction.

She began to see again, but only a foot or two in front of her. Beyond that was only that never-ending dark.

A little boy sat huddled against the wall of black. Only his blond head was visible, as he had hidden his eyes. Sylvanas could hear him crying. She stepped closer and he raised his head, only to recoil with a cry, his eyes wide with terror.

_Arthas. So this is where you ended up._

Was this her fate? Was she to spend eternity locked in this black world with Arthas' tormented soul? After everything that she had been through, this was to be her afterlife?

The pain came again, longer, and accompanied by maniacal laughter.

She shrieked and Arthas echoed her, begging for help.

"We can bring you back, Sylvanas."

Sylvanas snapped her head back, seeing the Val'kyr again. Had they followed her into this hell? Were they the ones torturing her?

"We can bring you back," they said again.

One of them, larger than the rest, came forward and raised her hand. The pain spiking through her receded once more. "You have to understand what would happen to your people if you stayed dead. Never mind the fact that you would never be able to leave this place…"

She raised her hand again, this time towards Sylvanas, and she saw. She saw…

Undercity burning to the ground. Faith… Faith at the edge of suicide, only to be burned alive. Her Forsaken leaping into fires instead of facing the wrath of the Alliance.

"Everything that you have built will die without you. Everyone that you have ever cared about will be killed in horrible ways. And your Faith, she will not be spared. She will end up here, but not with you. She will be alone."

"No."

"Yes."

A new image came to her mind. The same darkness she was in now, and Faith's agonized shrieks. She tried to run towards her, but her legs wouldn't move.

"For the part she has played in your triumphs, Sylvanas, Faith's soul will be eternally punished, just like yours."

"No!"

Sylvanas sank to her knees, beginning to cry. Real tears flowed over her cheeks, wet and warm.

"Faith is pure and good. Everything she's done was for me, because she loved me. She never did anything out of hatred!"

"You still have time to save her, if you go back. You can make sure she doesn't die. "

Another one of the Val'kyr moved forward, "And you would be with her, instead of alone in this hell. If you remain here, your torturers will force you to live both of your deaths hundreds of thousands of times. And when you've been tortured so much that you will wish for true death again, whatever remains of your soul will be ripped to pieces, and you will become the torturer. You will torture her. Or she will torture you. Once that is done, you will be a husk, forced to relive everything until you are whole again, and the whole cycle can repeat itself."

She stared at the creatures before her, aghast.

"But of course," said another one of the maidens, "even before Faith gets to that point, she will be tortured. She will not survive long without you, and part of you knows it."

"Stop it."

"All we want you to do is think about the one that you love. We cannot give you the peace that you crave, but we can bring you back to the land of the living. We can give you Faith back, and you can heal her before it is too late."

"Do it!"

"We will have to bind ourselves to you," said the first Val'kyr who had spoken. Her name flashed briefly through Sylvanas' mind. Annhylde. "I will remain here, forever dead, but my sisters will be eternally bound to you. If ever anything happens to you to bring you back here, we will be able to take your place and take you back to the living."

"And you will be free from this new Lich King," said Sylvanas.

"Yes," said Annhylde simply.

Sylvanas knew one thing: anything was preferable to spending eternity in the dark. It seemed as though a year had passed since she had landed here. She didn't want to stay here any longer, in the same realm Arthas was in. Maybe if she could have tortured him…

"Take me back to Faith," she said, not ashamed to hear that her tone was pleading. "Please."

Annhylde nodded, resting her hand on Sylvanas' head, "Very well. Farewell, my sisters. Take care of her. She is precious."

Only Faith had ever called her precious before.

Sylvanas closed her eyes.

The darkness withdrew. Wind howled in her ears, louder than ever.

Sylvanas thought that she had never heard anything as wonderful as that sound. The wind was  _alive_ , and for the first time in a long time, she felt alive as well.

She stirred.

_The End_


End file.
